


Why does my chest ache so much when it doesn't have a heart?

by FanFicReader01



Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: M/M, carnival of rust, small mentions of the other bandmembers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01
Summary: A zoltar animatronic surprisingly comes back to life after the amusment park has been abandoned for years.From within his small cabinet, he observes the world around him and reflects upon it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a writing spree xD  
> Have a CoR inspired fanfic :3

When he opens his eyes for the first time in years, he only sees darkness. The sky is probably filled with stars, but thick clouds cover them.

Where is the usual brightness from all those shining lights? Where is the sound of cheerful laughter? Why can he not feel the warmth of people being together and enjoying small things?

The Zoltar sees nothing of it at all. Everything hints at abandonment.

He can only hear the creaking sound of the rusty gates and the moaning from old attractions such as the rollercoaster.

 

The fortune teller starts to examine his own surroundings. He is still trapped in the small cabinet. It’s filled with dust and cobwebs. The wood is decaying. His clothes look like dirty brown rags with long,  torn sleeves.

His skin, once whole and smooth, is cracked and old and bruised. The white nail polish is coming off, just like some parts around his mouth.

When he carefully brushes over his left eye, the black makeup gets smeared on his fingers.

The Zoltar tries to move a bit but his movements are rusty as well. His hinges -wait, his hinges?

 ‘Am I not human?’ he mumbles to himself, aware of the rotating bolts in his body as he examines his own torso closer.

 His eyes are finally getting used to the darkness. He looks outside the cabinet and notices some light sources are still working and yet they are weak.

 

He recalls some fragments from before all of it came to an end.

There were countless people back when… back when what? Back when he was “alive”?

Yes, when the fortune teller closes his eyes, he remembers different things. But mostly he remembers the _people_ visiting his small cabinet.

The laughing people. Little kids who dared each other to speak to the talking animatronic. Old people who really believed in fortune tellers, whether they were real or animatronic. And the lovey dovey couples trying to ask about their future. But the Zoltar never understood “love”. What was it about people and love? They seemed to be obsessed about it.

Something in his chest starts to ache. Is it his heart? Does an animatronic even have a heart? Is he malfunctioning?

When the Zoltar touches his chest, he only feels the humming and roaring of the machinery that keeps him running.

 

***

 

Days pass by and the Zoltar sees how more elements of the carnival start to breathe again.

 

The large signs finally light up. Bringing more light to the otherwise dark area.

The _Great Gravity Wheel_ is set in motion again. It spins slowly while every little cart is swinging dangerously. How did people even dare to ride such attraction, the Zoltar wonders.

The window of an attraction has opened up. _Break for Freedom_ reads the text under the stall.

A man in a pink costume and a matching hat waves at invisible guests.

What’s gotten into him, the Zoltar thinks. There is nobody around, yet the man seems to speak. Maybe he is talking to himself. The bizarre man even offers a doll with blonde locks to the air. How silly.

 In the blink of an eye the doll has disappeared from the man’s hands.

Just as the fortune teller is trying to think about the logic behind it, another attraction draws his attention.

Fire eaters lit up the place. If they keep setting themselves on fire like that, they’ll eventually burn up. The Zoltar doesn’t understand the silliness of these humans. Were they really present during the glorious days of this now forsaken amusement park?

 

The sound of drumming makes the Zoltar look at yet another booth. Two men are simultaneous drumming.

They have grins too big for their head plastered on their unsettling face.

Would they react if the Zoltar shouted at them? The fortune teller knocks on the walls that contain him.

No reaction from any other members of the amusement park either. It’s like everyone is living in their own world, oblivious to the things around them.

 

A week later, the Zoltar is already bored watching the fire eaters, the man in the pink attires or the men that had appeared by the same stand.

The doll was nowhere to be found and nothing else had caught him off guard anymore.

Until the faint ringing noise of something foreign reaches his ears.

He scans his limited environment and finally spots something in the distance. He grumbles for he cannot see exactly what or who it is.

Although the blurry image isn’t getting any clearer, the sound is. The fortune teller deems the sound to be that of a cello. An ancient, used cello.

The instrument isn’t tuned enough and makes a piteous sound. It’s like the instrument is crying. Out of agony? Loneliness? Because the latter feeling is sure present in the Zoltar’s chest.

 

***

 

Ever since the fortune teller has seen the other people in the carnival, he yearns to be with them. To join them in their weird conversations, to be heard and to be listened to.

But none of them seem to be aware of his presence. The more they ignore him, the lonelier he feels.

And now there is this oh so sad sound of a cello and he cannot see who plays it. The sound of the darn instrument accentuates the emptiness and loneliness in his shallow body even more.

 

Soon the Zoltar starts to get restless and angry.

He feels so powerless and helpless. There is no hint of him getting out of this cursed box. He’s forever attached to it or so it seems. Even if the fortune teller would be able to escape, his batteries would run out of power eventually.

Besides a Zoltar has no legs, doesn’t have a need for them. Which means he has no support to drag himself across the barren land.

Often he yells and screams in frustration. He slams against the wooden beams that keep him locked, he scratches the windows until his fingers start aching and lose more pieces of skin. And yet he does not bleed.

 

***

 

One day the fortune teller wakes up to a pleasant revelation.

The cello has appeared in his vision! The thing stands only a few feet away from him. And the string instrument is accompanied by not one but two cellists!

The Zoltar hungrily observes the two men creating the sound that has haunted him for the last few days.

He tries to capture the whole picture and store it in his mind. Tries to devour all the information he can get from the new strangers before he loses interest again. Did they use to play here in the old days as well? There is so much mystery surrounding this carnival of rust.

 

The first thing the fortune teller notices are the missing arms. Both musicians have lost one. The guy who sits to the right in the Zoltar’s point of view misses his right arm. The other man has no left arm.

They both have white faces much like the fortune teller’s own.

But unlike him, their paint doesn’t seem to come off. It seems clotted however at some parts of their face.

Their bowler hats are dented and their clothes are a bit wrinkled. The costumes look fancy nonetheless.

The eyes of the musicians are slightly closed. They look sad. Just like the little melody they play.

The paleness of their skin makes their eyelashes stand out. The Zoltar almost sees some parallels between them and himself.

Maybe they are animatronics too? Their movements, upon closer inspection, seem very robotic and calculated. Each stroke with their bows on the strings are stiff. Maybe that’s the reason of their monotonous “music”.

But the card that’s placed at their feet point out their humanity. _Will play for food._

 

The fortune teller cautiously places one hand against the window. He wants to call them out, but he holds back. Will they even see him, he thinks bitterly.

 

More days have passed but the Zoltar hasn’t lost his focus on the cellists yet. He wonders why.

All they ever do is “play” the instrument, a never ending ringing. Their faces never seem to crack from their current emotionless appearance.

The fortune teller finds himself unexplainable fascinated by the cellist sitting on the left.

  ‘Nothing special about him’ he keeps telling himself but the fact that his eyes are always upon that man proves otherwise.

He wonders if it the cellist has become an obsession, his desire. _If_ an animatronic is able to feel such things that is.

But more often does the Zoltar feel his empty chest ache with a growing desire that is yet to be named. He wants to step out of his prison that is the fortune teller’s box and go to the cellists.

He wants to _feel_ the other man’s pale skin.

 

***

 

‘Rain?’ the Zoltar mumbles to himself as he wakes up from a dreamless sleep.

Water crashes down against his window, partly washing the dirt off in the process. The Zoltar looks up to the sky to see countless droplets fall from the heavens. He manages a small smile on his otherwise sorrowful lips.

The smile quickly fades when he realizes something.

The heavy rain causes his vision to blur and he curses the rain. Where is everybody now? But mostly, where is _his_ beloved cellist? Will he be gone if the rain finally stops falling?

 

The rainfall doesn’t stop but it does diminish. The moment the Zoltar can see the cellists again, the man on the left is looking right into the fortune teller’s eyes.

Something has changed. The white paint on his face. It’s bleeding and it’s coming off. The man’s eyes are still sad and darkened. But he is clearly looking at the Zoltar.

And then another miracle happens. The cellist stands up and leaves his chair. The way the man moves is stiff. He seems to have some difficulty with walking properly. Maybe because he misses an arm?

The Zoltar watches as their distance decreases. Maybe he has no heart to beat faster, but the bolts in him sure are rotating like crazy right now. The buzzing is felt throughout his whole body.

The fortune teller yells in shock when the other man seems to slip due to the rain. Luckily the cellist manages to catch himself in the fall and finds support by the Zoltar’s box. His hand and shoulder pressed firmly against the glass.

  He appears to exhale heavily as the glass gets clouded by his breath.

The Zoltar places his own hand on the window so it aligns with the hand of the musician.

They finally exchange looks again.

At first glance the man’s eyes seemed to be dark and cold but now that he actually stands in front of the fortune teller, the Zoltar sees different eyes.

These eyes aren’t cold or dark. They are surprisingly warm and light. Sad but warm. The face paint has come off around one of the eyes. It reveals a light toned skin. Pale, but more humane. It makes the cellist appear more lively.

 

The Zoltar is in awe of the other man. He manages a smile although he knows his face might crack. The cellist nods back. His lips move. _What is your name?_

The fortune teller doesn’t know. Does he even have a name? Or is his name Zoltar?

The cellist examines the box of the fortune teller and then returns his eyes to the Zoltar. He points a finger at him.

  _Marko_.

‘My name is Marko?’ the Zoltar almost whispers. ‘Marko’ he repeats. Strange: having a name. Being someone.

The other man nods. He pats his chest and says another name. _Olli_.

 ‘Olli’ he tries the cellist’s name on  his lips. Finally he can give the musician a name. It’s a pleasant and happy sounding name.

‘Are you… a human?’ Marko dares to ask. Olli tilts his head to the left and gives him a questioning look. Paint cracks when he frowns his eyebrows. Some paint drips from his left cheek onto the costume. Then he shrugs his shoulders.

  _Maybe. Don’t really know._

Olli stares at the sky. He puts out his hand and catches some droplets. Both men see the paint mixing with the rain. The paint is rinsed off for a bit. More real skin is revealed. Olli stares at Marko.

  _This rain. It’s magical, don’t you think?_

‘Everything here is. Yet I think you’re the most enchanting person of this whole carnival’ Marko admits. Olli smiles for the first time and Marko swears he could feel a bolt jump out of his chest.

  _Marko, are you a human? Or used to be one?_ Comes Olli’s question.

‘I don’t think I’m human. Yet I have these human like feelings’ Marko murmurs. He studies his wrinkled hands, toys with them nervously.

  _But maybe you could become one_. Marko looks up to Olli. He is still smiling.

‘How can an animatronic have feelings? How could I ever be human? Look at me. I’m malfunctioning. I believe my mechanics should’ve shut down by now’ Marko exclaims with an anxious voice. His voice, it breaks.

 _You’re not malfunctioning at all. All the_ others _are._ Olli blinks and takes in his surroundings. Marko lets his finger trace over the glass as if he caresses the cellist’s cheek. He quickly withdraws when Olli faces him again.

 ‘The others you say?’ Marko wants to know more.

Olli nods and explains: ‘Don’t you see it, Marko? No one “sees” us. Everyone here is absorbed in their own illusions. No one cares about us. Because we have outworn our purpose. We’re no longer needed.’

Marko can now hear the other man loud and clear. It’s like there is no glass separating them at all.

 ‘But you didn’t seem to be aware of me earlier!’ Marko argues. Olli laughs. ‘You’re right. But the rain has changed me. It was like a curtain of change. It washed away this dead part of me. It feels like I’ve just awakened from a very long sleep.’

The fortune teller sees how more and more paint has come off the musician.

 ‘I’m almost alive’ Olli states, also aware of his slow transformation.

 

‘Could you free me?’ Marko pleads suddenly. The cellist could be his solution, his salvation, his _everything_!

The sudden outburst startles the other man. He scratches his head. His movements are becoming more and more natural. Like a real _living_ human being.

 ‘I’m afraid not’ Olli apologizes. He steps back slowly. But Marko isn’t going to let the musician slip away that easily.

‘Stay here! Please! Don’t walk away!’ But Olli isn’t listening. The distance is growing. Marko slams both hands violently against the glass. And then he feels something wet. It’s obviously not the rain.

It’s a tear. A single tear rolling down his left eye. It smudges the black paint and leaves a black trail on Marko’s cheek. More tears follow.

  He is crying.

 

‘Don’t walk away’, Marko keeps murmuring to himself the following days.

His chest remains hollow and yet it stings painfully. He compares it to a furious storm raging inside a cave. Like the wind is clawing at the cave’s sharp edges with its invisible fingers. Eventually _softening_ those edges.

 

Olli had installed himself back by the cello. His counterpart didn’t seem to have missed him at all.

Although he regained his previous robotic position, sometimes Marko caught a glimpse coming from the cellist.

It irritated the Zoltar. Yet he was glad that the musician didn’t completely ignore him.

 

***

 

Maybe a month has passed by and Olli hasn’t approached Marko much to the fortune teller’s disappointment. Although they have exchanged some sort of meaningful looks to each other.

The bleeding paint on Olli’s face had dried up. It had even threatened to consume his face and hand again.

 

Meanwhile Marko feels empty once more. But really empty. Like he didn’t feel anything at all.

The storm in the cave has left him totally naked with no sharp edges to harness himself with anymore.

The Zoltar feels no more desire, no more obsessed feelings. Heck, he couldn’t even feel any anger towards the cellist anymore.

 

However his feelings return to him when Olli makes a misstep. One little slip from the synchronized tune he had held up all this time.

One stroke of his bow is too fast. And the cellist sitting next to him notices. The other guy twitches with his head as if disturbed. 

Marko can see Olli gulp. Unknowing the Zoltar clenches his fists as he watches the whole thing unfold for his very eyes. It all happens so fast.

 

The other cellist stands up. He walks over to Olli who has now come off his chair as well.

While Olli backs off, the other cellist nears with a threatening pose. And then he hits Olli with his bow.

Marko is sure he can see some blood. He shouts but Olli is too busy with defending himself against his violent counterpart.

And if the other musician isn’t enough, the fire eaters seem to join the “party” too. All Marko can do is watch it from inside his cursed box.

He can hear the thrumming sound of the drummers. Everyone who used to be in their own little world of the park is now closing in on  Olli, encircle him like hungry lionesses.

 ‘Get out of there!’ Marko keeps screaming in vain.

 

   Wait…

If he is an animatronic, then he shouldn’t feel any pain breaking his own limbs in order to escape right?

The Zoltar doesn’t hesitate anymore and with all his force he bursts through the windows.

On his way out of the box, sharp glass splinters get caught in his clothes. It doesn’t hurt him. Doesn’t affect him.

Miraculously he has legs when he is fully out of the cabin. Without giving it a second thought, Marko hurries to the cellist.

His unforeseen appearance at the scene, scares the other members. They freeze to the ground in shock, giving Marko an opening to grab Olli by his hand and drag the man out of the circle.

 

Rain.

It returns with thunder. Lightning bolts  lights up their world in a blueish sheen.

While Marko and Olli run away Olli looks over his shoulder and yells at Marko: ‘They are melting!’

The fortune teller risks a look too and sees how the other people in the carnival are indeed vanishing.

_Melting ice-cream._

 

The two of them hide in the _Exotic Animals of The World_ attraction. The place is dark and stinks of animals who aren’t there anymore.

‘Did some of them follow us?’ Olli finally manages to say after he has caught his breath. Marko shrugs his head.

 ‘I don’t think so. They all melted like sugar in the rain’ he _breathes._ Finally, he gives his new legs a look. They appear to be mechanical. His hands are shaking.

 

After some time passes, the Zoltar dares to look at the cellist. He has his eyes closed.

The rain has washed off a big part of the pasty paint. There is some blood on Olli’s cheek.

Marko’s hand lingers above the other man’s face.

When Olli opens his eyes, he catches Marko’s hand with his own. A small curl in the corner of his mouth suggests a faint smile.

 ‘Look at us, we’ve escaped. Survived. Alive and well’ he says. He studies their hands and entwines them.

And Marko _feels_ it. Olli’s hand is warm against his own. He holds onto the cellist’s hand.

He does indeed feel so alive.

 

‘Are you becoming human, Marko?’ Olli wonders. He releases the fortune teller’s hand and places his warm hand on Marko’s cheek. He rubs off some flakes of dried up paint.

When Marko touches his own cheek it doesn’t feel cold anymore. It doesn’t feel like plastic. It feels like _skin_.

 ‘Perhaps’ Marko mumbles flabbergasted.

When he reaches out to Olli, the other man lets him. Marko wipes away the blood on the cellist’s cheek. Olli grimaces.

 ‘I’m sorry’ Marko whispers as he looks away, slightly embarrassed.

‘It’s okay though. It’s not your fault that I got beat up’ Olli sooths.

 

All of a sudden Marko remembers something from the past.

He leans over to Olli and quickly gives him a kiss on the bruised cheek.  The cellist blushes for the first time and it makes Marko feel weak.

 ‘I just remembered that people sometimes kiss someone else’s pain away’ he explains with a stammering voice.

Olli laughs. Marko smiles hesitatingly.

 ‘Your mouth is blemished too’ Olli remarks and with that he presses his lips against Marko’s mouth.

 

And then Marko feels it.

He feels his heart. It’s beating. It’s alive.

He carefully takes Olli’s hand and places it over his heart. Olli lowers his head and rests it against Marko’s chest.

 ‘Your heart. It sings. And now it is finally heard’ Olli muses.

‘Yeah’ Marko says breathless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
